


Warm

by Starlight713



Series: Atom Bomb Baby [7]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: -shrug emoji-, Better take 'em off, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, O no! Your clothes are wet!, Pre-Relationship, Tropes Galore!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:10:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlight713/pseuds/Starlight713
Summary: Lola takes a dip in the river and night is falling fast.





	

                He had set up camp right where she’d told him—fire and everything. She’d found a spot on the thin stretch of beach up against a raised road down by the south side of the city. They were uncomfortably close to the river, but she’d been right—the crashed semi up on the street made for a nice barrier. When he looked up from here, all he could see was the stone wall under the road, and then the truck’s massive overturned trailer. Plus, they could build a small fire right up against the stone wall, and the wall was just high enough where he could still string up the faded grey tarp for some shelter without the fire melting a hole in it. Not a ton of space, but damn near impossible to see from the road or even the other side of the river. They even had a wall on the far end of their shelter because of the way the road curved (someone sneaking around would have to be in the water to get to them) and the other side had a clear line of sight. If he hadn’t known she was pre-war, he would have thought she’d been a survivalist all her life. She definitely had a good eye for places to bunker down.

                But where in the hell _was_ she?

                She had gone to check out something on the road above an hour ago, and while she’d said she’d probably be out of earshot, he hadn’t thought she’d be out long. Shouting for her would be no good. The city was quiet now, but if he made enough noise, they’d draw out every mutie and feral in the place. MacCready drummed his fingers on his gun as he looked out at the bridge, framed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

                He was starting to get worried, so he forced himself to sit down and clean his gun while stoking the small campfire. She had the sleeping bag and the rest of their gear, so he couldn’t finish setting up until she got back, and it felt mean to eat dinner without her (although, if she took any longer, he might just ignore that feeling and scarf down some of whatever they had left—maybe a tin of Salisbury steak? His mouth watered).

                That was when he saw her a ways off.

                In the water.

                What in the hell did she think she was doing? He waited by the shore until she made it onto the sand bar and stood up. Lola was fully clothed, backpack and all, shivering as she dragged herself onto land. She collapsed on the sand breathing hard, hair plastered to her face. There was a long scratch that traced from her chin down over her neck and looked like it had just barely stopped bleeding.

                “Boss, holy shi—oot!” He bit down on his tongue and crouched beside her. Lola’s chest rose and fell hard and he could hear her heart pounding when he leaned close. “What happened?”

                “Ferals. Swarmed.” She finally pushed herself up onto her elbows, but the damage was done. She was covered in sand. He hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her back under shelter. When she caught her breath, she sat up all the way and looked up at him.

                “Ferals?”                                                                                                                                                     
                “A bunch. Even if you had been there, the river still would have been the only way to sh-sh-shake ‘em.” She was starting to shiver. Her teeth chattered.

                “Start at the beginning?” He rubbed her arms but that didn’t seem to do any good. She was soaked to the bone and the temperature was only going to drop once the sun went down.

                “I was looking for s-s-salvage. There were so many of-f-f them. W-w-w-when they started running, I p-p-panicked. I got ahead and the only th-th-th-thing I could think to d-d-do was jump into the river to hide.”

                Of course she had been looking for salvage. How many times had junk gotten them in trouble now? Diving into the river was smart—he had never seen a feral swim, and if they didn’t _see_ her go into the river, they wouldn’t know to follow. She had probably just hung low until they disappeared, and then swam the rest of the way back to camp.

                She was shaking all over now and her lips were turning blue.

                “Come on.” He grabbed for her hand and pulled her up onto her feet. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

                She raised an eyebrow, but started to unbutton the long blue duster she’d picked up off Daisy a while back. Her hands were shaking so bad that it took her a whole minute to get the first button. He untied the belt cinched around her waist and brushed her hands away to do it for her. Her skin was so cold that, for a second, he wondered how in the hell she’d managed to make it all the way back to camp. But this was the Boss. She was hard to kill.

                He pulled the coat down off her shoulders and tossed it aside. She was wearing layers, but she let him help. He peeled back the loose-fitting button-down shirt to reveal a t-shirt, which he helped her pull off over her head. Her cheeks flushed red. He’d seen her in her underwear before. Hell, he’d seen her in less before. But he could still feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck. Not like he was some gangly teen. He was a grow-ass man. But his hands still shook a bit (not as bad as hers, but still) when he unfastened the armor around her thighs and unbuttoned her jeans.

                Keep it cool. If she doesn’t get out of her wet clothes, she could freeze. This isn’t anything.

                He’d forgotten her boots and she bent to take them off but wobbled. He knelt down in front of her ( _Christ),_ unlaced her boots, and helped her slide them off her feet one by one. Then two pairs of socks. After that, she was able to kick her jeans off the rest of the way.

                He shot back up and refused to make eye contact.

                She carried her clothes back over to the river and waded in up to her hips.

                “What the fu—” He took a deep breath. “What are you _doing?”_

                “N-n-n-n-need to rinse off-f-f. S-s-s-s-sandy.”

                Her clean-freak thing was going to be the death of her. The shakes were getting worse by the second. She finished rinsing her clothes of the sand (unnecessary) and handed them to him. He used one of the ropes securing the tarp to hang them to dry. She dunked her head under water and came up sputtering.

                “You’re just going to get sandy all over again sitting on the beach.”

                “N-n-n-no, I’ll—” She glanced around, eyes wide. _“Shit!”_

                “Told ya.”

                “S-s-s-sleeping b-b-bag!” She lurched out of the water and stumbled over to her sopping pack.

                Which had the sleeping bag.

                And the spare blanket.

                _Shit._

                He unrolled the sleeping bag and held it up, but they hadn’t found anything waterproof to put it in, and it was drenched and cold. Grumbling, he opened it up, wrung it out, and hung it up over the fire. Best they could do for now. While he was there, he upended her pack and laid everything (mostly salvage, but here and there some spare clothes and food) to dry. When he looked back over, she was still standing there, hugging herself and shaking.

                _Shit._

                “Hey, Boss? You okay?”

                She shook her head frantically and looked up at him.

                _Shit._

                He fought his coat off from his shoulders and started towards her. Coat would be warmer? But it had no functional buttons. He’d been meaning to sew buttons back onto the coat but hadn’t gotten around to it. Shit. Suppressing a groan, he tugged his shirt off over his head. He was under the tarp and out of the wind, but the chill hit his bare chest immediately. He started to hold out his shirt for her before realizing that, duh, she was still wet. She would just soak his shirt and freeze anyway.

                He picked up his scarf and walked over to her.                                                                            

                “Dry off.”

                She took the scarf but it slipped from her fingers. That was when he realized they were in trouble. She shouldn’t be having that much trouble with her hands.

                Carefully, he picked the scarf back up. She huddled up close, but let him work. He scrubbed over her shoulders, across her back, down her sides, over her stomach. MacCready bit his lip when he stooped lower to run the scarf down her thighs and calves. Smooth, soft thighs and calves. _Christ._ She was still shivering, but when he stood back up to see if he could wring some of the water out of her hair, she was bright red. So, at least _that_ was probably warming her up. He finished rubbing the scarf over her hair and she looked up at him, pathetically small without her seven-hundred layers of clothing.

                He held out his shirt.                                                                                                                               

                “T-t-turn around?”

                He did as she asked, though he didn’t understand why she would have him turn around when she was putting one _more_ clothes until she walked past him to hang up her bra and underwear to dry.

                _Oh._  
                Well. It made sense. Wet underwear would just get colder. His shirt was a little big on him, but it _wasn’t_ too big on her. It was only long enough to just barely cover her ass. Little snug on the hips, little baggy on the shoulders. She had buttoned it mostly up but the sight of her in nothing but his shirt still sent a whole separate shiver through him. He shrugged his duster back on. She bent over the fire, trying her best to keep herself at least kinda covered, but she was very much fighting a losing battle. Her lips were still purple. He looked away for her sake.

                Eventually, she sat down beside him, teeth chattering.

                She was still shaking bad.

                “Boss?”

                She looked up at him, but her eyes were unfocused. He pushed some hair back from her face and her skin was weirdly cool to the touch, even though Lola usually ran pretty warm. She yawned through a tremor.

                Very carefully, he slid one arm around her waist and hooked the other under her knees so he could get the right leverage to haul her into his lap. In the flickering firelight, she mumbled “th-th-thanks.” She burrowed under his coat for warmth, tucking her icy hands between their bodies. He rubbed her arm and pulled her in close to his chest. Her cheek was on his shoulder and a tremor crept up through him when her nose brushed against the side of his throat; the cold passed from her right through his skin. Her legs were curled up against her, and she rested her arms on her bare knees. He had never noticed the Boss’ knees before, he didn’t think. His body was painfully aware of every line of hers. The fingers crushed against his ribs, the breath tracing down across his collarbone, the toes tucked under his thigh, the wet hair sticking to his skin. She shifted to get comfortable and he saw stars. It took them a minute to settle in. It wasn’t quite warm at first, but after a bit, the shivers evened out into slow breathing as she thawed. In the warm glow of the fire he rested his head on hers and closed his eyes.

                “Mac?”

                “Yeah, Boss?”

                “Thanks.”

                He gave her arm a squeeze and felt her smile curve up against his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This was self-indulgent. Just straight-up self-indulgent. I just reeeeeeeeeeally like this trope! Thank you so much for reading! You are lovely <3
> 
> If you want to follow my Fallout/Mass Effect/Writing Tumblr, you can find it here: https://starlightwrites.tumblr.com/


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